Something More
by joiedevivre2011
Summary: She could hear the panic in his voice and it made her heart break, but she couldn't do this anymore. Her heart was already too broken to continue the way they'd been doing the past few years.
1. Chapter 1

So this idea came to me while listening to _No Light, No Light_ by Florence + the Machine for the umpteenth time. I had a feeling if I listened to that song enough, a Callian fic would eventually come out of it somehow. So here it is, or at least an intro. I'm truly relying on reader feedback to determine whether I'll bother continuing this. Thanks to Nonnie88 for encouraging me to continue after I sent her the first half or so. :)

And so here we go...

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><p>"Gill. Please. Don't…"<p>

She could hear the panic in his voice and it made her heart break, but she couldn't do this anymore. Her heart was already too broken to continue the way they'd been doing the past few years.

"Don't what, Cal? It's not me who's leaving. You left me a long time ago. You know that right? YOU left ME, over and over again. For Clara. For the jewel thief. For _Wallowski_." She spat out the last name with such disgust. "You first left me a long time ago, so you don't get to pretend like you're the victim right now!"

Cal stood there, mouth agape, like she'd just slapped him. Of course, she had really, verbally at least. He knew that he infuriated her, that he drove her to the edge time and time again, but she always came back. _She always came back._ What was he supposed to do when she finally didn't? He couldn't handle that prospect.

"Gillian…" he started.

"Save it, Cal. Save it for someone who's willing to listen, because I'm not anymore. I'm tired of your excuses. I need something more than you're clearly capable of giving," she said sadly, tears starting to form in her eyes.

And with those words, she turned on her heels, walked out of Cal's office and out of the Lightman Group building. She didn't look back once.

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><p>Cal stood there, almost as if his feet were super glued to the floor. His brain was reeling. Did that really just happen? Did Gillian Foster just walk out on their business, out of his life?<p>

Her words were echoing inside his head. _"I need something more than you're clearly capable of giving."_

What the hell did that mean?

He didn't know yet, but he knew he had to figure it out and time was obviously not on his side.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm writing and posting this story in small sections at a time. It's easier that way for both me and you, because that means you'll probably get updates a little more often.

And here we go with chapter two...

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><p>She had to convince herself that this was for the best and that she could really do it. Because she'd walk out of the Group and he'd come running after her.<p>

He would come running after her, wouldn't he?

Wouldn't he?

Surely she meant enough to him to fight for her, even after all the crazy shit he'd done. She put up with it. She suffered through it all because she was just bat-shit crazy for him. She wanted him more than she'd wanted any man in her entire life and she figured that as intelligent and just damn good as he was at his job, he'd figure it out.

But oh no, he hadn't. Not yet. He kept making the most annoying decisions, particularly without her. He kept her trapped inside this little bubble 90 percent of the time and the 10 percent of the time she managed to get out of it, he treated her like she was one of his little employees, like she was completely disposable.

Gillian Foster was _**not**_ disposable and there was only one way to let him know that: leave. Because as soon as she stepped outside that door, the Lightman Group would fall apart, and he knew it. _He fucking knew it_.

So here she was, slowly climbing into the driver's seat of her silver SUV and straining to listen for footsteps that she was sure would come. They had to. As much as she'd had it up to here with his antics, at the end of the day, could she really leave him? She certainly meant what she said to him in his office; she was angry enough.

But now? Now she just felt defeated. She wanted to hear his footsteps from behind. She wanted him to come running up, to throw his arms around her, and to beg her never to leave again. She wanted him to spin her around, to dry her tears, and to confess that he wanted her too. Forget needing her at this point – they both knew he_ needed_ her, but to say that he wanted her there with him, too, that was something else entirely.

She gently put her purse in the passenger's seat, trying to stall for time. He was going to come after her.

She pulled the driver's side visor down, checking in the mirror for makeup smudges, particularly around her eyes. He was going to come after her.

Sighing, she flipped the visor back into place and fumbled with the keys in her hand, feeling for the one she needed to start the engine. He was going to come after her.

After finding the right key, she slowly slipped it into the ignition, wincing when the radio came blaring out of the speakers (apparently she'd forgotten to turn the volume down when she came into work). She quickly pushed the off button and turned the key briefly, hearing the engine roar into life. He was going to come after her.

Still stalling, she checked to see that her rearview and side mirrors were in the proper position. He was going to come after her.

Reaching her right hand to the middle console, she put the vehicle in reverse and glanced around to make sure nobody was in her way, except she hoped that one person in particular would be.

He wasn't going to come after her.

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and rationalized that he just wanted to give her some space to calm down. He'd come eventually.

_Wouldn't he?_

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><p>Reviews are quite lovely. ;-)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3...yay! :)

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><p>He poured himself another glass and slouched back down in his chair. How many drinks had he had? Four? Five? He couldn't quite remember, but her words were still haunting him. <em>"I need something more than you're clearly capable of giving."<em>

What did it mean? _What_ was he clearly not capable of giving?

When it came to the Lightman Group, he always gave his best, even if only the scientific end of it.

When it came to their friendship, he didn't always give his best, but he always tried his best to protect her. Didn't that count for something?

_Is __**that**__ what this is about?_ He took another sip of brandy. _So, this has something to do with our friendship…_

He stood up suddenly, knowing what he had to do. He had to go to her. Now, even though it was (he glanced down at his watch) nearly 10pm. Such quick movements made him dizzy and he took an unsteady step forward to balance himself on the nearest chair.

_Right then. Taxi, it is_. 

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><p>It had been several hours since she'd stormed out of the office, leaving a stunned Cal in her wake. He hadn't contacted her at all. No emails. No texts. No calls.<p>

She desperately wanted to reach out to him; she missed him already. But she'd given in far too often. It was time for him to come to her. It was time for _him_ to explain what exactly had been going on for months inside that damn head of his.

And he _would_ come to explain. She knew (hoped) it was only a matter of time. It hadn't been that long after all, right?

It was already 10:05pm. If he didn't come knocking on her door in the middle of the night, he'd come in the morning. Hopefully.

Sighing, she put down the now-empty glass of wine she'd been holding in her hand and thus began her nightly going-to-bed routine.

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><p>The taxi pulled up to the curb right at Gillian's apartment building. Slipping the driver a 20 dollar bill, he told him to keep the change. As he turned around toward the building, the taxi driver sped off quickly, as if he'd sensed something bad was about to happen.<p>

Cal had made it there by 10:30 and knew that she'd probably be in the process of getting ready for bed. He desperately hoped that she would come to the door. After all, when someone came unexpectedly knocking at the door after 9pm, it rarely meant good news.

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><p>She heard the faint, familiar noise of knocking at her door, followed by the ringing of the doorbell. Glancing quickly down at her watch she had yet to remove, she saw the time was 10:32pm.<p>

Suddenly gripped by fear, she had to remind herself to take a deep, steadying breath. _This better be Cal, _she thought, _and not some police officer coming to tell her Cal had been in an accident_. She knew him well, after all and because she'd left so abruptly, she knew he had gone straight for the bottle maybe before he had even left the office.

Gillian quickly looked into the mirror. Good. It didn't look like she'd been very upset. Taking another deep breath, she turned and walked back into her bedroom, down the hall, and straight to the door. Putting her hand on the doorknob, she steeled herself and hoped she was truly ready to have probably the most important tête-à-tête of her entire life.

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><p>Walking slowly, he finally approached the door of Gillian's apartment. He took a deep breath, knocked three times on the door, and then rang the doorbell once. He didn't quite know how, but he definitely could sense the instant Gillian's hand touched the doorknob, despite the fact that he couldn't hear anything coming from the inside of her apartment.<p>

Hearing the click of the lock and seeing the turning of the knob made Cal's chest feel funny. He hoped he could really find the words he needed to make her stay.

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><p>She opened the door just enough to take a peek at who was on the other side. When she saw Cal, she knew the relief would be evident throughout not only her face, but also her entire body. She hated that he would see it and wished she was better at hiding her emotions from him. She pulled the door further open, taking a step back to indicate that he should come inside. She immediately saw his hesitation, but just looked at him as he stepped through the open door. <p>

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><p>He saw the relief. Of course he did. He also saw that she was dressed in light blue pajama bottoms (<em>probably from Old Navy<em>, he noted) and a thin, but form-fitting camisole, which clearly showed him that she was _not_ wearing a bra and that she had indeed been getting ready for bed. She said absolutely nothing to him as she stepped back to let him inside.

As Gillian closed the door behind him, he turned around to face her.

"Relief. So. You expected me to come to you. But even more, you _wanted_ me to," he stated simply, despite it being the obvious.

He saw the anger flash over her features and her hands clench into fists. Still she said nothing as she merely stood there looking at him.

"Well?" he implored.

"Did you come here to explain, Cal, or did you just come to be the complete bastard you've been to me for the last six months? Because if it's the latter, you can get the fuck out of my house," she replied, her jaw clenched.

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><p>You know what to do. :)<p> 


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